


Screw My Brain Till It Hurts

by TheSchubita



Series: Death On Two Legs [2]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: 1979, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm not kidding here this is SAD, M/M, Paul is his own warning, Supernatural Elements, for now, hints at poly!queen, it's quite maylor-centric but in a more or less platonic way, major angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2019-12-25 20:10:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSchubita/pseuds/TheSchubita
Summary: Roger is at a party, but he's not having fun.He's also wondering when he started being good at lying to his friends.





	Screw My Brain Till It Hurts

**Author's Note:**

> This work is purely fictional and is meant for fandom only. If you're one of the people mentioned here, please don't proceed. If this shows up on any social media shared with the guys (Insta, Twitter) I'll come to your house and breathe loudly till you take it down ☺.
> 
> First off, I'd like to thank @riceinthechurch on tumblr, who has been a MAJOR help in this, and has read every part dutifully, and helped name the series, as well as most parts. Please go read their fic "Pain Is So Close To Pleasure" - they're aliquis on AO3.
> 
> This was a tiny hc I originally posted on @bohemian-rhapsody-slash (KyluxFicHell on here, seriously, check out their fics too) on tumblr anonymously, and it grew legs and, well, here we are.
> 
> One thing that is important to me is that everything is tagged appropriately. If you read something that you feel should be tagged, please tell me. I want no one to be uncomfortable, or worse, triggered by something I didn't catch.
> 
> Also, English is not my first language, and I'm always willing to learn - if you catch something weird, you're free to tell me, as long as you're nice about it ;).
> 
> ....
> 
> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR COMMENTING, FOR THE KUDOS, FOR THE BOOKMARKS ON THE FIRST PART ILY ALL

The party around him is roaring, but Roger isn’t feeling it. Freddie had been trying to heckle him onto the dancefloor, or the bar, or _somewhere_ else Roger doesn’t care about. He gave up about fifteen minutes ago, huffing and stalking off towards the bar, where the admittedly cute bartender had been giving Freddie bedroom eyes. Any other day, Roger would’ve either spent the rest of the evening shooting dark looks at them or looking for a quick, meaningless shag to distract himself. Tonight however, he’s content to just stare at his cheerfully bright drink John brought him over what must’ve been over two hours ago ( _“Look, it’s pink and sparkly and it was on fire! It reminded me of you!”)_ (John was a happy drunk). He’s just debating if he should call it quits and go back to the hotel they’re currently staying at, when another body sidles close to him. Roger gets ready to tell the random person to fuck off, when he freezes.

 

“You should be celebrating, you know?” Paul says with a wide smile. “It was a big show, you guys were amazing.” Roger just stares at him, heart beating erratically. He feels as if he’s about to choke on his own tongue. Paul laughs, picking the drink out of Roger’s numb fingers and taking a sip, making a disgusted face as he does so. “God, that’s vile,” he mutters, handing it back. Paul’s eyes are dark as he takes in Roger. “Ah, yes – today is the date, isn’t it?” Roger tries to swallow around his heavy tongue. “How has it been, these past five years?” As if Paul isn’t lurking around them 24/7. “Now that’s what, a quarter of your life over?”

 

“Go away,” Roger says, but it sounds weak to his own ears. Paul always, _always_ finds him on this day, no matter what he does, who he’s with or where he is. Paul sighs, and shifts closer.

 

“That’s a bit ungrateful, isn’t it?” He asks Roger. Roger manages to glare, barely. “I mean, after all I’ve done for you. Do you need a reminder of what could happen –“

 

“I’m tired of your game,” Roger informs him tiredly. “You can’t go back on the deal, or you would’ve already done so – you hate me.” Paul hums.

 

“ _Hate_ is a strong word,” Paul says. “But you are a little cunt, yes.” Roger snorts humorlessly.

 

“Why do you always, _always_ do this?” Roger can’t help but ask. He takes a sip, and almost spits it back out. It _was_ vile. “Can’t you let me die in peace?”

 

“Oh, _Rog_ ,” Paul laughs, and the nickname in Paul’s mouth makes bile rise in his throat. “Always so dramatic – you’re not dying, rather, you’re already a dead man walking.” He laughs again, amused by his own wordplay.

 

Roger can’t breathe.

 

Paul notices, and hums. “Oh, don’t be so morbid – that’s _my_ job,” he says and winks, and for one second, his eyes are bright crimson, before he blinks, and they are their normal, watery blue. “You should be celebrating – you’ve all you want, fame, money, more girls than you can keep up with –“ he smiles. It’s not a friendly one. “And of course, your _lovely_ new woman – been thinking about having some kids with her, too. Tell me _Rog_ , does she know?” Paul is clearly having the time of his life. Roger clenches his teeth.

 

“Know what? That I sold my soul to some cunt? Yeah, not bloody likely.”

 

“Don’t play dumb, boy,” Paul says, and then the façade is gone – despite still _looking_ human, the voice, the energy clearly isn’t. Roger swallows. Paul leans closer, so that their breaths are mingling. If it were anyone else, Roger would interpret it as a heavy come-on. “We know you don’t care about her. Not really.” Roger tries to move back, but he’s essentially trapped between Paul and the back of the lounge. “We both know who really has your heart.”

 

“Piss off,” Roger says, or begs, really. He doesn’t want to hear it. Not from anyone, but especially Paul.

 

“Oh, you’re stuck with me until your pert little arse gets dragged to hell, dearest Roger,” Paul croons. “That I get to torture you until that day is just for my personal entertainment value.” Roger glares at him.

 

“So, I’m just your daytime soap opera then?” He snaps.

 

“What else would you be?” Paul wonders, wearing a smile of delight. “It’s delicious really. You put up this hard, devil-may-care attitude, desperate for the world to believe you’re just a selfish, uncaring little _slut_ ,” Roger is sure he must be looking green in his face by now. “And yet,” Paul pauses. “And yet, you sold the most precious thing a human has, because it’s worthless compared to what’s most precious to you – them.” Despite himself, Roger looks away, looks into the crowd, searching for his bandmates. He catches a glimpse of John, drunk and happy and dancing, eyes crinkled. He sees Freddie, now completely engrossed with the kind-looking bartender, and Roger knows he’s ten minutes away from going home with him. He doesn’t see Brian, but he’s sure wherever he is, he must be having a good time too.

 

He suddenly feels decades older than he is.

 

Paul is still talking. “And the most precious thing is, you didn’t tell them. They have no _idea_.” And here, Paul begins to quietly laugh to himself. Roger still looks to where John occasionally surfaces from the crowd for a few seconds; he doesn’t bother to look at Freddie again. He couldn’t bear the ugly feeling he’d get watching Freddie leave with the stranger.

 

“Why would I?” Despite himself, he keeps indulging Paul. He lights a smoke with trembling hands. “Wouldn’t change a damn thing.” It would just make them feel guilty, sad, and the time he has left would be spent with regrets. Roger wants none of that.

 

“What a soft, delicate thing you have for a heart,” Paul muses. “You love them so _absolutely_ – I wonder if it’s the same for them? I wonder, if the places had been reversed –“

 

“I wouldn’t have wanted that,” Roger presses out, ignoring the sting of Paul’s words. He takes another swig of the disgusting drink.

 

“No,” Paul agrees. “I know you wouldn’t.” His voice is deceivingly soft now, as if he wants to comfort Roger. “Still, it must hurt – Knowing that they could never love you back like that, could never give up for you what you did for them. And still you continue to love them so selflessly. I wonder –“ he shifts closer again, and his breath tickles Roger’s neck, sending a cold shiver down his spine. “Does it keep you awake at night? Those lost opportunities –“

 

“Is everything alright?” A voice asks suddenly, interrupting Paul. _Brian_. Roger closes his eyes and exhales.

 

“Oh, hello there, Brian,” Paul says cheerfully, moving away from Roger. When Roger opens his eyes again, he sees Brian eyeing Paul suspiciously – it’s no secret that except Freddie, they all dislike him. “I think Roger here had a bit too much to drink – I was just making sure he was still conscious.” Brian is still frowning, but he somewhat relaxes – him getting pissed is a very plausible little lie.

 

“Well – thanks,” Brian says. “You can go now, I got him.” Only Brian would manage to voice such a clear dismissal so politely. Roger almost grins, if he still had the energy to force his facial muscles to do anything. Paul shoots him a look, but apart from Roger, he’s always trying to be at least civil to the others. He leaves, and Roger finally feels like he can breathe normally again.

 

“What the hell was that about?” Brian wonders, frown still present, watching Roger carefully. Roger stretches out his limbs, practically sagging into the ugly couch.

 

“He was being a prick,” Roger shrugs. It’s not even a lie, even if it’s not the full truth by far. Brian still studies him in that careful way of his. “Sometimes, I really want to throw him out of the bloody window.” _Not that it would do anything to him._ Brian laughs, and Roger thinks this one of his favorite sounds in the world, right along with Freddie’s quiet little giggle and John’s loud, snorting cackle.

 

“You do look a bit green around the nose, though,” Brian says, and he looks worried again.

 

“You’re such a mother hen,” Roger tells him. “I’m twenty-nine, mate.” Brian rolls his eyes.

 

“Then start acting like it,” he tells Roger, but it’s fond, and for all that he’s still feeling cold, he feels a prickle of warm at the tone. “Do you want me to take you home?”

 

Roger almost chokes. “ _What_?” He asks, sure he’s misheard. Brian looks at him strangely.

 

“You look like you could use some sleep, and I can drive you, if you want? Back to the hotel?” Brian jingles his car keys.

 

_Oh_.

 

“Uh, what time ‘s it?”

 

“Something past 1AM – early for you, I know,” Brian teases. Roger winces. He doesn’t want to stay in a strange empty hotel room. He couldn’t stand being alone tonight, walls closing in. Brian seems to read his thoughts though. “You could stay at mine, sober up and go back to your room in the morning, if you want?” Roger could kiss him.

 

“I could kiss you,” he says.

 

Ah, he never had a good brain-to mouth filter. Brian looks at him with a heavy look, before he sighs.

 

“You’re drunk, Rog,” he says, sounding as if he was disappointed. “Let’s get you home.” Roger tries to stand, but his legs are still shaking from earlier, and he stumbles. Brian catches him, but he looks at him accusingly. “Jesus, how much did you drink?”

 

He forces himself to scowl, even if it lacks the usual bite. “Fuck off, Bri,” he says, and is strangely glad for the huff he gets in return – he’s been feeling off all day, and this is a bit of normalcy returning to him. Brian steadies him, and they make it to Brian’s car, where he’s unceremoniously deposited in the passenger seat. He sighs, leaning his head against the cool window. From the other seat, he can feel Brian watching him.

 

“Are you sure you’re alright though?” Brian asks him quietly.

 

“Brian…” he groans, turning to look at him. Brian raises his hands placatingly.

 

“Alright, alright,” Brian says. “Just – you’re off today.”

 

Roger mulls over the words. “Am I not allowed to have an off day?” He eventually asks, and looks out of the window again. Brian falters at his words.

 

“Of course you are, Rog,” Brian says slowly. “But – you’ve been off for some time, and you don’t talk to any of us – and it’s disquieting.”

 

“There’s nothing to talk about, Brian,” he says. _Lie_. “I’m fine, this is just – a passing mood.” _Lie_.

 

“Roger,” Brian says, and the tone is strangled, desperate. It makes Roger turn and look at Brian again. Brian is gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white, and he looks strangely as if he’s five seconds away from shouting, gaze focused on something on the street. “Are you happy, Roger?”

 

The question comes out of nowhere, and it hits Roger like a ton of bricks. “ _What?_ ” Brian’s jaw twitches, but he still doesn’t turn to look at him. “Why are you asking me something like that?” Brian snaps his head around to face him so suddenly Roger swears he can hear his neck snap.

 

“Are you serious?” Brian yells, and Roger flinches back. “Roger, I don’t know – _we_ don’t know what’s going on with you –!”

 

“Nothing’s –“ Roger tries, but Brian shoots him such a harsh look he immediately shuts up.

 

“Lying now, too –“ Brian mutters under his breath, shaking his head. “Roger, we’re worried,” he says, tone forcefully calm again. “Sometimes, you clink yourself out mentally for hours and even days, and you look like you’re seconds away from crying. I – _we_ want to help you – we’re a family.”

 

_I don’t want your pity_. The thought comes unbidden in Roger’s mind, but now that it’s here, he can’t get rid of it. He knows – despite what Paul says – that they all love him, but it’s not the same; could never _be_ the same. The thing is, if Roger had even the slightest indication that what he wants could be possible, he’d drop everything right then and there, but – Roger _wants_ so much, so desperately, that his mind feeds him impossibilities, reading too much into the shared gestures and looks, tainting them in the process.

 

He can’t do that to Brian – to any of them. They deserve better – better than him. Forget the _deal-with-the-devil_ thing, it would be utterly selfish of him to tell them what he really wants of them. Brian and John are both married, have both kids, and are happy. And Freddie, beautiful, extraordinary Freddie, was living his life, free in the purest of definitions – who was Roger to chain him down with something unwanted like obligation?

 

He thinks long about how he’s going to answer Brian – because Brian wouldn’t let this go, as stubborn as any of them, even if he pretends he’s this level-headed, distinguished intellectual. Brian lets him gather his thoughts, not saying a word, just waiting.

 

“I know, Bri,” he begins softly. “I’m sorry if I’ve seemed – distanced. I just had a lot to think about.” He pauses. “Dom and I,” he can feel Brian stiffen slightly next to him. “We’re thinking about – well you know,” he waves his hand around. “We’d like to start a family. Well, she does,” he adds. It’s kind of tweaking the truth a little. It’s not what’s really eating at him, but it’s not _not_ true, either. They’ve talked about kids – Dom is almost as hesitant as he is, but Brian doesn’t need to know that. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” he adds. He has fifteen years left. Even if they had one right now, his kid would still be so young when the inevitable would happen, and he feels that that would be horribly unfair. Something must have showed in his face, because Brian reaches out and settles a hand on his shoulder. Roger wants to sink into the warmth he provides.

 

“You’re not your father,” Brian says quietly, and Roger starts. He almost goes to correct him; his father had been absent from his thoughts for a long time, but – maybe this was easier, for Brian to believe that he had doubts because of his shitty old man, instead of leaving him to dig around for the real issue. “Is that what’s been eating you?” Roger shrugs. Brian shakes his head, curls bouncing. “You’d be an amazing dad.” Brian says it with such sincerity that Roger can’t help but blink back tears.

 

“Yeah?” He asks, feeling suddenly very small. Brian squeezes his shoulder and smiles – thinly, but sincerely.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Thank you, Brimi,” Roger says, knowing Brian is a softie for their old nickname. He smiles as warmly as he can muster, and Brian looks at him, hesitating for a moment.

 

“So – you’re happy, then?” Brian asks carefully, searching his face.

 

_No_. “Yes,” Roger says. Brian closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, something is missing from them. Roger can’t put his finger on what it is. “I mean – it’s still new to me, getting this serious with someone, you know,” he laughs at himself trying to lighten the mood. “Me, a father? I’m pretty sure Dom will end up dealing with two children. But – yeah.” He forces himself to finish his rambling.

 

“Well,” Brian says. “You’re probably right about that,” he teases, and Roger shoves him playfully. Brian shoves him right back and Roger could cry about how happy he is that finally, some sense of normality is returning to him.

 

“I know you – all of you – have my back,” Roger adds. Roger would – could never trouble them with something like this, but, he did appreciate the devotion they had for each other nonetheless. “I just felt I had to, you know, work through this alone.”

 

It scares Roger how good he got at tweaking the truth, at lying, so that none of the others were any wiser for it. Roger wonders what that’s saying about himself.

 

“You’re an idiot,” Brian informs him, rubbing his forehead. Roger smiles self-deprecatingly. “Just – you really gave us a scare there. We half-thought you were leaving _Queen_.”

 

Roger starts, because while he’d never leave the band, he is going to leave _them_ , in fifteen years – _don’t think about that_ , he scolded himself. “Are you daft? I’d _never_ ,” he says firmly.

 

“Deaky would hunt you down in any case,” Brian tells him, and isn’t that the truth – John is terrifying, even when he’s not trying. “I’ll tell the guys know tomorrow you were just being your usual dumb blond self.”

 

“Oi,” Roger says indignantly, trying to flatten his hair. Brian rolls his eyes, and seriously, one of these days, they’re gonna get stuck like that. They drive home in quiet peace after that, and then Brian shoves him into a clean shirt and deposes him down on the tiny couch in Brian’s hotel room. It’s something they’ve done a dozen times, and yet, Roger feels something is missing from Brian’s touch. Then Brian goes to sleep in his bed, and Roger listens to him breathe, breaths getting softer and deeper.

 

Roger lies awake until the early hours of the morning, thinking about lost chances and time ticking away.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a part of an ongoing series that's already written and finished and already on a posting schedule - always updates on Thursdays!
> 
> I'd love to hear what you thought - Comments are love ♥
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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